


to fly toward a secret sky

by Crollalanza



Series: The Captain and his Vice [9]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 22:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3586155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We could take it really slow,” he murmured. Suga gnawed his lower lip.  “Uh, just forget I ever mentioned it at all. Sorry. It’s not import-”</p><p>Suga’s eyes screwed up even tighter, crows’ feet creasing at the corners. “Daichi,” he muttered, a small plea in his voice, “it won't be my first time.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	to fly toward a secret sky

**Author's Note:**

> The original idea for this story was the prompt 'Confession' during Daisuga week on tumblr, but I never had a chance to write it. 
> 
> The kick I needed to actually get on with it was delivered on twitter, probably by Noemi (thewindraiser). 
> 
> This story covers sensitive issues, so please heed the warning. 
> 
> Finally, I alluded to this story in Cherry Blossom, but it isn't necessary to read that first.

‘ _The first duty of love is to listen.’_

~Paul Tillich  


As his fingers fumbled on the fastenings on Suga’s black gakuran, Daichi snorted at his ineptitude. _How frigging hard can this be?_ _I undo my own every day. Twice a day if I have practise._ His fingers slipped again. _Three times if we have a lunch time practise as well._ _Get a fucking grip, you dumbass! Four times if – “_ Ah- ha!” He beamed triumphantly, as he unhooked the last button.

“Took your time, didn’t you?” Suga laughed, and shrugged off his jacket where it flopped on top of Daichi’s. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I don’t have your nimble Setter fingers,” Daichi replied, and still smiling, he lifted Suga’s hand to his mouth and nipped each fingertip.

“Very smooth, Sawamura,” Suga murmured. He smirked and inched a little closer. His free hand crept to Daichi’s waist, tugging his shirt to expose his stomach. “Want to see what I can do one-handed.”

Daichi felt rather than heard the groan in his throat as Suga’s thumb began to trace patterns on his skin, teasing the hair delineating his torso, while his fingers expertly flicked undone his trousers. He palmed Daichi’s crotch, cupping him through his boxers, a slow half-smile on his face as he watched and waited for Daichi’s minute reactions.

 “What would you like, Captain?”

His breath hitched as Suga slowed down the movement of his hand and slipped his tongue into Daichi’s mouth.

“What would you like?” he repeated.

He opened his eyes, inhaling sharply in an attempt to clear his thoughts. But trying to gain ascendency over Suga, when he was not only smiling, but working him with such exquisite slowness, was near impossible.

“N-not like this.”  He groaned as Suga pulled away. . “We don’t have to be quick today, Sug. My parents are away, so we’ve got all night, and ... uh ...”

“What?”

“I ... uh ... thought ...” he murmured, then buried his face his Suga’s neck.

“Thought what?” Suga asked. He tipped his head back, refusing to let Daichi hide his reddening face.

Daichi stared at him, stared at the glimmer of excitement in Suga’s eyes and the teasing smile playing on his lips. Encouraged, he forged on. “Thought we could take our time,” he muttered. “We could ... uh ... get into bed, for a start.”

Sweeping back Suga’s hair, he planted a kiss on his temple, then slipped a hand under his shirt at the back.  “Maybe ... uh ... see what happens,” he said, hoping to all the gods he really did sound smooth and as if he knew what he was doing, because the world and his wife must have known how nervous he was. Trying not to swallow, to show any sign of nerves, he persevered, sliding his fingers under Suga’s waistband, stretching the elastic on his boxers, lightly scratching his spine. “Go the next step ... maybe.”

“Uh ... OH!”

Suga’s expression went from puzzled to complete comprehension in less than a second, and Daichi smiled because for once Suga was dumbstruck.

“Have I finally shut you up?” he said, laughing nervously. Shuffling back, he tugged Suga down onto the bed.

“You ... um ... want to ... um ...” His eyes were wide, startled even.

“Oh... uh... n-not necessarily.” He cleared his throat, wishing to god the ugly red flush wasn’t apparent on his cheeks. “Just ... uh ... well, we’ve ...um ... I don’t know, Sug. I’m curious, and ... um ... we –”

Fuck, this was going well then?  Suga was staring at him, his face not exactly horrified, but shaken – yeah, that was the word for it.   _Shit, we’re not on the same wavelength at all._

“Sorry,” he whispered. “We don’t have to. I mean, I’m n-not going to push this. It’s fine now.”

“No ... uh ... yeah, I get it.” Suga didn’t immediately move off him, but he lifted himself up on his arms, looking down at Daichi. He wasn’t smiling, but neither was he scowling. His expression was just ... not there. It wasn’t that he was blank, but he was elsewhere, not in the room. And then he shook his head.

“It’s fine,” Daichi repeated. “It’s ... um ... a bit soon. I get it.”

“Uh ... yeah. Sorry.” And still he didn’t move. “But you’ve been thinking about it. I mean, this hasn’t _just_ occurred to you, has it?”

“Forget it.” Daichi tried to pull Suga back down to him, but he now he rolled to the side. “Sorry.”

Suga stared up at the ceiling. “N-no, it’s ... um ... natural. You’re going to want –”

“But you don’t.” Daichi reached across, touching Suga on the arm. “It’s okay, but ... um ... have you never kind of ... wondered? I mean, you’ve known for years that you were gay, so –” He bit his lip. He didn’t want to push this. Didn’t want to come over as demanding, or aggressive or whatever Suga might think he was, but ... Hell, ever since he’d kissed him, ever since they’d got close, physically, the urges he’d tried so hard to obliterate from his mind, had surfaced with unerring regularity to the point where sometimes it was hard to focus on anything other than Suga.

“Yes, I have,” Suga murmured.

“But not with me.” The words now spoken, couldn’t be taken back. Daichi twisted his face away, unable to look across at Suga anymore. The rejection absolute.

“Of course I’ve thought about it with you,” Suga replied, punching him lightly on the arm. “For two bloody years, it was all I thought of, you idiot.”

“Oh!” Grinning, Daichi turned back, but expecting Suga to be smiling at him, he was shocked to be confronted with an expression of apology, rather than happiness.

“But not now? Have I ... um ... put you off somehow? Is there a –”

Suga placed his finger on Daichi’s lips. “Shh, of course you haven’t. I’m just ... Forget it. Let’s ... um ... yeah, okay.”

“You don’t sound exactly ... uh ... happy about it,” he muttered. “Look, I know it’ll be the first time and ... yeah... and we’re not exactly prepared, and I- I’ve landed this on you too quickly, so ... um ... okay, it’s too soon. Sorry. First time can ... um ... wait because - Jeez, say something, Sug, I’m fucking dying here.”

Sighing, Suga disentangled himself from Daichi’s embrace curled his knees to his chest and twisted onto his side. He squeezed his eyes tight shut, the way he always did when he was about to say something difficult, something he maybe thought was an awful opinion to share, but had to say it anyway.  

Daichi waited, but Suga remained silent. _Maybe he’s not against the idea._ “We could take it really slow,” he murmured. Suga gnawed his lower lip.  “Uh, just forget I ever mentioned it at all. Sorry. It’s not import-”

Suga’s eyes screwed up even tighter, crows’ feet creasing at the corners. “Daichi,” he muttered, a small plea in his voice, “it won’t be my first time.”

“Huh?”

And now he was babbling, falling over the words as they tripped from his lips. “Not exactly, I mean. Y-you ... uh ... shit, fuck this, um ... hell- I don’t know why I’m telling you. It’s not important, and it’s nothing ... really ...”

He was gulping at the air, his shoulders shaking, and for all Daichi knew that he had to be there for Suga, because his whole skidding out of kilter, only one question was in his mind. A question that he really should not have been thinking, shouldn’t ask, but he’d so _stupidly_ assumed and now ... Fuck it!

“Who?”

“Sorry?”

“Who was it?” he asked again, barely recognising the husk of a voice coming out of his mouth.

“Um...” Suga blinked. “He was... uh ... that’s not important, Dai.”

“Do I know him?”  He knew even as he asked that it was a bad question. But at that moment, in his bedroom, where his ‘oh-so-fond’ thoughts towards his boyfriend of four months, his friend of over two years,  were close to shattering, it was all he could think to say.

“Does that matter?”

 _No,_ he should have said. And then, what he _should_ have done, because the situation was not irreparable, was reach out, envelop Suga in a hug, ruffle his hair, kiss him lightly on the cheek or slowly on the lips, and done his utmost to convince him that no, of course it didn’t matter.

“Yes, it matters. Who is he?”

“What? I don’t get why ... Daichi, I’m not going back to him. There was never anything to go back to. He was –”

“Unimportant. I get it. So unimportant, you couldn’t be arsed to tell me. Which _I_ think is quite important.” Unable to stop the question, he said it again. “Who is he?”

“Was,” spat Suga. “Oh, I get it.” He shuffled off the bed, standing up, and tucking his shirt back in. “This isn’t to do with me at all, is it? Or us. Or even him.  It’s you, and what ... wanting to be the _first_? Is that it? A blow to your fucking male pride!  Fuck this, Sawamura. Fuck all of it.”

Feeling heat and fury start to swell, Daichi clenched his hands into fists, desperate to quell his temper. “Come on. You’ve not exactly been honest with me. This is the first I’ve heard about an ex, and I’m supposed to be fine about it? Shrug it off? I suggested sex. I kind of thought we were moving that way ... together. I had no fucking idea that you were already there. That you’d already –”

“No, no, you’re pissed off because I didn’t save myself for you on the off-chance that you’d wake up and decide screwing half the girls’ volleyball team wasn’t what you wanted,” yelled Suga.

“Two girls!” Daichi protested, and gestured with his hand, trying to underline the point that it had only been two, and anyway Suga’s known about them. “There was never ... I never ... we never had sex. And you know why I was seeing them. You know what my parents are like. Jeez, if they knew you were here and we weren’t just studying, do you have any fucking idea what they’d do to me ... and you!”

Suga laughed, sounding bitter, bent down and plucked his jacket from the floor. “Well, they don’t have to worry tonight, do they?”

“What?”

“It’s not too hard for you to work out, is it?” Suga muttered as he shoved his arms into the sleeves of his jacket, and started to do up all the buttons.

“You’re leaving?”

“What does it look like?”

How the hell had it come to this? He stared open-mouthed at his boyfriend, half torn with laughter because he was doing up the buttons all wrong, and half wanted to smack him one. “Oh, come on. Suga, don’t be stupid,” he said, and grabbed his wrist, pulling him back towards the bed.

Suga glared, his eyes a mix of fury, disbelief and ... something else ... something that looked a little like... _fear_? “Stupid as well as – what?” he asked, and wrenched free. “A liar?  A tease? A ... what else do you want you to call me, Sawamura?”

“Tease? What are you on about?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Rubbing his wrist, he stared out the window. “I’m going.”

“B-but you’re supposed to be staying over. My parents aren’t here. We have the place to ourselves.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a big boy now. I’m sure someone else can tuck you in.”

He was out of the room, and clattering down the stairs before Daichi had a chance to move. Not that he could have moved. Stunned, he tried to compute what had happened, just how minutes earlier they’d been making out, and now Suga was gone, his voice breaking as he’d yelled a goodbye.

***

Suga had not returned his calls. Or texts. Or any number of messages Daichi’d sent, so after a sleepless night, and checking his phone, yet again, Daichi dressed, grabbed coffee for breakfast, and trudged his way to school.  He kept his eyes open for Suga because often they’d meet on the way, or by the gate. Even before they’d ever been together, they’d usually enter class at the same time, chatting through their plans.

But not that day. Suga was absent – conspicuously so – from tutor period, and there seemed to  be no prior knowledge for their teacher had looked around the room, checked her register for notes, then fired a question his way.

“Did Sugawara mention that he’d be off today, Sawamura-kun?”

“Uh...” Maybe he should lie, tell them Suga had a dental appointment or something, but ... would that land him in more trouble? And if Suga had only bothered to reply to his texts, then ...

“Did he or not?” she queried.

He shook his head. “Um, maybe he’s ill.”

“But I take it you had practise together last night? Was he fine then?”

“Uh ... yeah, I s’pose.”

“Had a row?” rasped Itori, sitting in the desk to his left. “Lover’s tiff?”

Itori was fishing, Daichi knew that, but his tone, his insinuation and the nasty snarl accompanying his words, forced Daichi to stuff his hands into his pockets before he socked him one. He kept his focus, took a breath and ignored him, concentrating instead on their teacher, who’d moved on after a small shrug, and marked Suga down as an unauthorised absence.

He walked in halfway through the lesson. “Sorry, I’m late.”

“Sugawara-kun. Nice of you to join us,” she snapped, and held out her hand. “Note?”

“I don’t have one. Sorry, I overslept.”

“Overslept? You’ve been at this school for over two years. You’re eighteen years old, and yet the concept of an alarm clock appears to have gone over your head.”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered.

She raised her eyebrows, clearly expecting a better explanation, but Suga remained silent, his eyes downcast. “Take your seat,” she said at last.

“Thank you.” Bowing Suga backed down the aisle and slunk into his seat next to Daichi. He opened his desk, unpacking the odd book from his bag, selecting the others he’d need for the day. And didn’t look at Daichi once.

“You two _have_ had a row,” Itori butted in.

“Shut the fuck up,” Daichi whispered. He swallowed, trying to stop the dryness in his mouth. “Suga?”

“What?” he muttered under the cover of his desk lid.

“Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he muttered, and angled his face slightly towards him.

 _Because you look like shit,_ Daichi thought, taking in the reddened, puffy eyes and paler than usual cheeks. His lips too were bloodless, his hair more tangled than usual, and there was a constant movement in his throat as if he were swallowing to clear a constriction.

“About last night,” he ventured. “I-”

“Don’t worry,” Suga rasped. “He’s not in this class.”

“I wasn’t... ugh!” Boot-faced, Daichi rammed his chair forwards, his knees hitting the bottom of his desk.

Suga dropped his desk lid, letting it fall with a bang.

“Sugawara,” their teacher called. “You turn up late with no explanation, and now you’re disrupting the lesson. Is there something you need to share with the class?”

“I apologise,” he said, meeting her gaze then lowering his head in respect.

“Do you _have_ an explanation?”

He shook his head. “Sorry, no.”

“Then concentrate. No more interruptions.”

“Yes, sensei. Sorry.”

As she handed back essays, explaining certain comments to each student, Daichi seized his chance.

“We’ll talk later,” he mouthed.

“Why bother?” Suga yelped, and started to laugh. “You never fucking listen! Why are you going to start now?”

The class turned as one. They might not have been able to work out the exact words, as Suga had spoken with such rapidity that everything had jumbled, but the meaning was there, moreover everyone had heard him swear.

“SUGAWARA! I WILL NOT TELL YOU AGAIN! VICE-PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE, NOW!”

***

The vice-principal wasn’t in his office but Suga took one of the hard plastic seats in the corridor and waited. He stared at the wall, avoiding the rather ugly picture that glared at him, instead focussing his scanty attention on the vase standing on the small plinth.

 _It’s even more hideous than the one Noya broke,_ he thought, then closed his eyes.

It had been much simpler before they’d got together, only having to worry about the team, because even though he’d desperately wanted something else from Daichi, and had wanted it for two years, simply being there with him, consoling him as the team had fractured had been almost enough.

He’d not thought, he’d never realised that Daichi had felt the same way. He hadn’t dared to hope because ... why would he? Meeting him after that first volleyball session, practising during lunch break when they couldn’t use the gym. Discussing tactics and strategy with both Daichi and Asahi, had given Suga a sense of purpose, something to belong to,  and he’d not thought it had mattered (too much) when it was clear Daichi was never going to feel _that_ way about him.

Until that summer of their second year.

They’d been playing volleyball in the park under scorching sun, and Suga had suffered sunstroke. He screwed his eyes tighter shut remembering Daichi chiding him for not drinking enough water, fussing when he didn’t wear a hat. Pulling him to his feet, when he’d fallen, their bodies had brushed up against each other. You couldn’t play a team sport without falling over, barging into each other, tripping on your feet. It was innocent, nothing abnormal, and it had happened so many times between the pair of them. But that time, Suga’s hand had maybe lingered a fraction too long, and Daichi, looking down, had backed away, a little too quickly.

He’d dated Amiko after that, wrapping his arms around her at every opportunity, as both volleyball clubs met up for practise, picnics and fun. Suga had only had to make it through a week (and he did make it through) and then, with shuddering relief, he’d left for a holiday with his parents.

 

(He was tall, with black hair straggling in spikes down his neck, not long like Asahi’s hair, but wilder somehow. His eyes were dark as jet, glittering dangerously when he caught Suga’s eye, and shot him a half smile.

“Hi, Kagome Takehiko,”  he said, bowing his head in introduction.

“S-Sugawara Koushi.” He smiled, sort of. At least he assumed he’d smiled.

“Koushi, eh?  It suits you.”

Suga screwed up his nose. “I hate it.”

“No, it’s pretty. Soft.” The boy bent closer, his whisper as gentle and caressing as the summer’s breeze, “It suits you, Koushi.”)

 

“The Vice-Principal won’t be coming in until later, Sugawara-kun,” the secretary said. She smiled down at him, no doubt thinking Suga was here for his own reasons and not because he was in trouble. He didn’t get in trouble, had the reputation for being one of the reliable students, who was a pleasure to teach. A steadying influence, which was one of the reasons he thought he’d been given the job of Vice-Captain. Not that Daichi needed much steadying. He’d always been stubbornly focused on his goals.

“I’m supposed to stay here,” he replied, staring at his shoes.

“Hmm, well, he won’t be in until after lunch, so I suggest you get back to class. I can give you a note for your teacher, if you need one.”

He nodded, not wanting more trouble. He’d return to class, come here later, and see what else would be dished out to him.

Daichi was staring at a blank page in his book when he got back. He glanced up as soon as Suga walked in, kept his eyes locked on him, as he pressed his lips together. But Suga, after handing over the secretary’s note, walked back to his desk, head bowed.

“Suga?”

‘Don’t talk to me,’ he scrawled on his book. ‘Please.’

“I only want to-“

“SAWAMURA! If I have to send you to the Vice Principal’s office, too, then I will. Whatever’s going on between the pair of you does not enter this class, do you understand?”

“Yes, sensei. Sorry, sensei. It’s just a volleyball thing.”

“Then save it for volleyball. Sugawara has already missed a lot of this lesson. Do _not_ distract him anymore.”

 

(He was sitting by the pool, not yet wanting to plunge into its icy waters, hoping the sun didn’t turn him as pink as the shrimp on his shirt before he jumped in, when Takehiko approached.

“Shouldn’t you be in the shade? You’ll burn with that fair skin of yours.”

“That’s why I keep my t-shirt on.” Suga smiled up at him, liking the slanting smile and the obvious enjoyment in Takehiko’s expression when he saw him.  

“Shame to waste the sun,” Takehiko said, edging his lounger closer. “And you’ll catch it on your arms but nowhere else. You’ll look funny changing each day. Do you have lotion?”

“Huh?”

“Sunscreen,” he explained.

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

“Then put it on. I’ll do your back.”

“Um ...” Suga gazed around him, at the couples and families gathered by the pool. “It’s a bit ... um ... public.”

Takehiko laughed gently, and squeezed some cream into his palm. “I’m putting lotion on you, Koushi, that’s all. Now, take off your shirt and sit still.”

His hands were soft, not at all calloused, with long, thin fingers, and neatly trimmed nails that every so often he dug into Suga’s skin. And although it was pleasurable the way his fingers splayed to his waist, flirting with the waistband of his trunks, a vague feeling of disquiet swept over Suga.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Koushi?”

“No.”

“Are you interested in _anyone_?” Takehiko smoothed more cream to his lower back.

“Uh ...” He swallowed away the lump in his throat, the lump that appeared every time he pictured Daichi draping himself over Amiko, laughing as she fed him grapes.

Takehiko’s hands slipped to his front, applying the sunscreen to Suga’s abdomen.

“I c-can do my stomach,” he spluttered. “Thanks.”

Takehiko tutted, and swung back onto his lounger. “Do I unsettle you?

He kept his back to him, rubbing the cream down his arms and neck.“Yeah, a bit.”)

***

Although he’d tried to talk to Suga, there hadn’t been a chance. With no practise at lunch, Daichi’d thought they could find somewhere private to talk – maybe even sneak out of school - but Suga had been kept back by their teacher, and then Shimizu had hovered in the corridor, needing to talk. When Daichi had next looked across the corridor, the classroom was empty. Suga hadn’t been in the cafeteria either, so after texting him again and getting no reply, he’d decided to leave him be.

He buried the thoughts at the back his head that Suga would be ruminating on every aspect of their argument and getting deeper into a contemplative mess. He decided instead that Suga needed time to calm down, and that he, as his boyfriend, would only make things worse if he sought him out.

Afternoon lessons weren’t made easier by Suga being absent for the first. He reappeared at the start of the second lesson, his expression still bleak, and handed one of the Vice-Principal’s blue slips to their teacher.

“Only one detention, then,” she said, sounding sour. “I suppose your past record is good.” Then she peered closer at him. “Sugawara, you really are not looking at all well.”

“I am fine,” he muttered. “I apologise for causing trouble this morning.”

Daichi watched as she studied him, her eyes flicking up and down, taking in what everyone else could see. Suga might have smartened up, his shirt was tucked in and his gakuran buttoned to the top, but there was still precious little colour in his cheeks, and the usual smile was a memory.

“Take your seat,” she said, then backtracked as she shot Daichi a look.  “Perhaps one in the corner, Sugawara-kun. That way you can concentrate.”

“Thank you.”

And now, he couldn’t even catch Suga’s eye, intentionally or accidentally, unless Suga turned his way.

And he didn’t.

“You two have had a row, haven’t ya?” Itori’s grin was vulpine. “That’s not the sort of thing that happens with mates,” he whispered. “More like ... boyfriends.”

Keeping his eyes trained firmly on the smart board, Daichi raised his hand to cover his lips and muttered, “As you don’t have mates or a boyfriend, then how would you know, Twatori?”

 

 _It’s no one in this class,_ he thought. _Maybe it’s no one at Karasuno. What did Suga say? When did this happen?_

He’d said something about waiting for Daichi. An off-chance. Before he was seeing Amiko, then? Or after? Maybe it was when he’d taken up with Hina. There’d been his birthday party, and Suga had been reluctant, had made up an excuse, then changed his mind when he’d found out Daichi was no longer going out with her.  So, between the two girls?  What... He tried to cast his mind back to that time. The summer they’d spent in the park, joining up with the girls’ team. Amiko, eager and fun.

But she hadn’t been Suga, although at the time Daichi had buried that thought deep inside.

Had Suga paired up with someone then?  Why hadn’t he noticed?

Wondering if he could develop psychic powers if he concentrated hard enough, he stared across the room at the back of Suga’s head _. Suga, please look at me. Just turn this way. Please._

But he was either a crap psychic, or Suga was an expert at blocking him. He strongly suspected it was the latter.

His thoughts swept back to summer. It had to be summer because after the break, they’d been far more focused on volleyball. Their coach had returned, the new first years had found it hard, and ... Suga had been with him, but his side, supporting, encouraging ... all the time. Had he really been so wrapped up in Amiko that he’d not noticed Suga? Had he really not seen him with anyone?

He shook his head. No, he hadn’t been _that_ caught up with her. The dates had been a distraction - that was all. And there’d been some fun, but even lying together in the park, in the scorching sun, laughing with her, he’d been aware of Suga’s shadow.

_He went away!_

“Jeez, how could I have forgotten that?”

“Forgotten what, Sawamura-kun? Not your essay, I hope?”

Lifting his head to the teacher, Daichi blinked. “No, sorry. I’ve not forgotten anything.” He swallowed. “Not now.”

 

(He was hyper when they met up, greeting Daichi with an almost feverish high, slapping Asahi on the back, eager for their news, desperate – he said - to get back to practise.

“Tell us about your trip, Suga,” Asahi pleaded after the fourth slap. “What were the springs like?”

“Ah, good, good.” He smiled widely. “Very wet. I ruined my phone. Look, Dad had to buy me a new one.  Which reminds me, I need all your contact details again.”

Daichi reeled off his number but before he’d got to the end, Suga laughed. “I have yours, idiot, but I need the first years’ numbers.”

Amiko joined them, half sitting on Daichi’s lap, and he grimaced because this closeness was getting a little annoying after three weeks. “Take my chair,” he offered. “I’ll, um, find another.”

She pouted a little, then placed her hand on top of his. “I’d like a pink lemonade float.”

“Sure.”

Suga was watching the exchange, and then his eyes glazed over. Picking up his tea, he focused on something out of the window, his expression blank.)

 _You met him there_. _That’s why you came back so happy and then you ... drifted. Except I didn’t notice. I didn’t want to notice._

 

The touch was tentative, the words bluff but he hoped sincere. “Suga, I’m sorry.” He swallowed and waited for Suga to stop packing his books into his bag and turn around. “We should probably talk before practise. Clear the air?”

“I have detention.”

“Ah ... so you won’t be at-”

“No, I won’t be there. A thousand apologies, Sawamura,” he said sourly, “for fucking up your practise.”

“That’s not what I-” Daichi growled and furled his hand into a fist. “I don’t care about the practise. I want to talk!”

“Well, I don’t.” He turned on the ball of his foot, and for one brief moment, he met Daichi’s eyes. “I can’t, okay.”

“Later, then.”

“Did you hear me?” Suga asked. “No, ‘course you didn’t. I _can’t_ talk about this. Now, I have to get to detention. A detention you landed me in, after you once again, refused to listen.”

As if he’d been punched, Daichi reeled. The boy staring back at him was so distant, so controlled, so ... not Suga.

“That’s not fair!”

“Well, boo-hoo, go tell your mummy,” Suga snapped. He raised his hand, pushed Daichi out the way, and stalked off.

“Suga, for fuck’s sake, be reasonable! I’m trying here.”

But he didn’t reply, didn’t look back, and as much as Daichi was tempted to run after him, to grab him by the arms and make him talk, make him listen, he had practise.

And he was annoyed, too. Because since when had he ever been _that_ unreasonable.

 _How dare you,_ he thought. _You spring the fact that you had a boyfriend on me and expect me to be fine about it? And you’ve decided this is all my fault. Well ... fuck you, Sugawara. Fuck you!_

***

“Gather round,” Daichi called out. “Just had a text from Coach Ukai. He’s going to be late, so we’ll start with some serves and receives. Then...” He swept his gaze over them, not entirely sure what to plan next. He wondered about a rotating three-on-three, where they swapped players continually, something to liven them all up. It got the juices flowing and kept the spirits high. Noya and Tanaka, in particular, loved the high energy.

But even as he thought about it, his mood blackened because  this had been one of Suga’s ideas  at the end of their second year, when the pair of them were getting to grips with running a team without a coach. The results had been encouraging, with the returning first years getting fully involved, and the retiring third years entering into the spirit of the game with an energising enthusiasm.

“Daichi?”

“Hmm?” He turned, Kiyoko was tapping him on the shoulder.

“They’ve done five receives each. What next?”

“Uh ... any more news from Coach-san?”

She shook her head. “Sensei isn’t here, either.”

“Okay, leave it with me.” He clenched his teeth. “Karasuno, let’s play a three-on-three. I’ll try and get everyone involved.”

“Rotating?” Tanaka asked, sounding hopeful as he nudged Noya.

“Yep, okay,” Daichi said steadily.

“Rotating?” queried Kageyama.

Daichi nodded. “This is how it works. You’re divided in two teams, three playing at one time. The rest of you on the sidelines. As soon as a point is scored, two players, one from each team, are subbed.” He chewed his lip. “We don’t have an even number of players, but if I duck out, then that shouldn’t matter.”

“Is Sugawara-san all right?” Hinata called out. “He must be really ill to miss practise.”

“He was in the library at lunchtime,” Tsukishima muttered. “I saw him, so I hardly think he’s ill.”

“No, he’s ... uh ...” Daichi smacked his lips together. “He has a detention, Hinata-kun.”

“Whoa!” Hinata’s eyes matched Noya’s and Tanaka’s as they gaped and processed the information. “Did he do something really bad?”

“He ... uh ... That’s not important. He’s not here, though, so we’ll practise without Suga-san.”

And then he heard the door open, and knew before he turned that it wasn’t Ukai.

“I’m here,” said Suga, his tone neutral. “Let me stretch, and I’ll join in soon.”

Conscious all eyes were on them, and this was not the time to start another row, Daichi kept his words light. “You made it. How did you swing that?”

“Takeda sensei was taking detention.”

“So, special favours, then,” Daichi tried a joke, then metaphorically kicked himself after Suga glowered at him.

“Yeah, that must be it,” he muttered, then cleared his throat to address Shimizu. “He’ll be along soon. He’s finishing some paperwork.”

“Okay.” Daichi gritted his teeth, getting annoyed with Suga’s intransigence. “As the vice-captain is here, then we can get on. Kageyama and Suga need to be on different teams. Noya, you and I should remain separate. Hinata, stick with Kageyama. This is fun, okay, but it’s also a chance to try out new moves.”

 He warmed up, taking his time over stretching, before slipping on his knee protectors. And all the while, as Daichi watched, he didn’t speak or look at any of the play.

And that wasn’t Suga at all. Because, in the past, when they’d had the odd spat and were ignoring each other, he’d always been attentive to the team. So this went deeper. Much deeper.

“Kageyama, tag Narita,” Daichi commanded, hands on hips as he ordered the play. “Suga, do you want to start now?”

“Yep.” One word. Quiet. Solid. Expressionless.

“You still have your jumper on.”

“I’m cold. Who am I tagging?”

“Uh ... Asahi.”

He jogged onto the court, flipping his hair off his forehead and faced the opposing side. Against Kageyama, Hinata and Ennoshita, it was a strong team, one that could attack and defend well. Suga’s team with Kinoshita and Noya had no visible attackers, so points scored would likely come about from mistakes.

Hinata scored, leaping up – eyes closed, and slamming his spike past Suga, who barely moved. He blinked and held his hand up ruefully.

“Ennoshita, off, Yamaguchi on,” called Daichi. “Noya off, Tanaka on.”

“ALRIGHT!” Tanaka yelled, grinning widely at Suga. “Let’s get some points, Suga-san.”

With an attacker, Suga’s team moved with more purpose, especially as it was Hinata’s turn to serve. Tanaka rippled with confidence, and imbued that to Kinoshita. The only person still listless was Suga. He was observing, but his jumps were late and his toss to Kinoshita was weak. Kinoshita tried a feint, which Yamaguchi blocked, sending it back across the net and towards Suga.

“Suga-san!” Tanaka called for the ball, ready to power it down the centre. Suga tossed, it was reasonable, but there was a lack of energy to his play. Without speed, Tanaka’s spike lacked power. It was still strong, but Kageyama received with no real difficulty, hoofing it towards Yamaguchi, then rushing forwards for the chance ball, so he could set. Hinata charged to the left, leapt high and accepted his chance. The ball flew down the centre, but this time Suga woke up, got underneath it, and flipped to Kinoshita.

“Nice play!” Daichi shouted. His feet were twitching, itching to get on and play. Kageyama would serve next, and he’d like to be on the end of that serve, except ... damn, he was on Kageyama’s side, not Suga’s.

Kinnoshita hit cross-court setting up another toss for Suga, who heaved it into the air, again for Tanaka. This time, the ball was true and Tanaka wasted no opportunity, spiking it into the far corner.

“WOOT WOOT!” he cheered, and started to take his shirt off.

“No time,” Daichi shouted. “Get back on court, Tanaka. I’m on for Hinata. Kinoshita off, Tsukishima on.” He flipped a smile across the court, trying to encompass Suga as well. “Bring it on, guys. Everything you’ve got.”

At the back of the court, Suga bounced the ball on the floor. He had a good serve, not especially powerful, but he could aim well, always pinpointing a weak point in the defence, so Daichi placed his hands on his hips and waited because he knew Suga would aim directly at Yamaguchi.

The ball came at Daichi. It wasn’t a rocket, but it had some kind of swerve, which meant Daichi had to move quickly. It was still a bread-and butter receive for him, the type he could do when asleep, but knowing how Suga’s mind worked, how he chose where to aim, he was increasingly maddened.

“You’ll have to do a hell of a lot better than that, Sugawara,” he shouted, expertly sending the ball across to Kageyama.

“You made an assumption, Captain,” Suga called out, his voice appearing friendly, but there was an undercurrent, and as he charged forwards, Daichi knew he was playing not for the team, but as if he had a personal point to prove.

Kageyama tossed to Yamaguchi, who mishit his spike, sending it straight to Tsukishima. He tried a feint, but Kageyama covered, setting up another chance for Yamaguchi. Flustered, he stumbled, the ball hitting his arm rather than hand and sent it bobbling over the net. Tanaka covered, kicking with his foot, laughing uproariously. It was the sort of thing that ordinarily Daichi would have laughed at too, or at least smiled and inwardly cheered, but watching Suga break into a wide smile, when he’d been so miserable and angry all day, made a film of red mist to fume in front of Daichi’s vision.

“This isn’t football!” he yelled, staggering forwards.

“You said we should try new things!” Suga yelled back, and tipped his head up to the ceiling, splaying his hands for the perfect set. “Tsukishima-kun!”

Tsukishima leapt for the toss, impassive but with narrowed eyes as he judged the best place for his spike. Expecting another feint, Yamaguchi stayed close to the net, but Daichi scuttled sideways across the court, reading Tsukishima’s intention. He received easily, and let out a yell as Kageyama reached for it.

“Then try this!” Daichi retorted, spitting his words out, and if anyone else in the gym understood his anger, they were doing a good job of ignoring it, no doubt believing their Captain was merely entering into the spirit of the game.

He was barely aware of anything on court, or in the gym, didn’t hear the door open as Takeda entered, because all Daichi’s attention was now focused on the ball heading his way and Suga’s grimly determined face as he readied himself to receive the spike.

But as Daichi leapt, something inside him released because Suga was no longer looking quite so determined, or as angry, or as ready to play. His cheeks, which had been flushed from the exercise, had blanched again, and although he stood stock-still, there was something weak about his form.  It was too late to stop the play; he only saw what was happening a split second after he’d whammed the ball down. Suga’s eyes rolled, his lips parted, and before the ball got to him, he fell back in dead faint.

“Whoa, Daichi-san, that spike was awesome!” Noya cried. “Suga-san, you shouldn’t receive with your face.”

“Stop the game,” Takeda shouted from the sidelines. “First Aid kit, someone quick.”

Dry mouthed Daichi crossed to the other side of the court. Suga was stirring – vaguely – but his eyelids were only fluttering, and his lips ... his lips were indefinable against the pallor of his skin.

“I told you to take your jumper off!” Daichi declared, crouching down. “And have you eaten at all today?”

“Interrogation isn’t the answer,” Takeda murmured. “Step back, everyone.”

“Sensei... I didn’t hit him, did I?” Daichi spluttered.

“No,  Suga-kun has fainted, that’s all,” Takeda told them all, then he lowered his voice. “Did you say he hadn’t eaten?”

“Uhm ... I don’t know, only he wasn’t in the cafeteria, and Tsukishima said he saw him in the library at lunch time, so ... um ...  I assumed as much.”

“Shouldn’t assume, Daichi,” muttered Suga from the floor. “Though you might be right.” He tried to sit up, but Takeda stopped him.

“Slow down. You might have banged your head.”

Suga lifted one hand and gingerly felt the back of his head. “Feels okay. I think I kind of crumpled, didn’t I?”

“Your knees went,” Kiyoko murmured. She placed the first aid kit on the floor, and handed over a drinks bottle. “It’s got juice in it. Drink up.”

“Th-thanks,” Suga murmured. He smiled weakly and raised himself to sitting, and although his breathing was fast, some colour began to appear in his cheeks. “I’m okay, but ... uh ... maybe I’ll sit this practise out.”

“You need to go home,” Takeda said firmly. “I shall call your mother to pick you up.”

Shaking his head, Suga turned his attention and rather vague smile to their sensei. “She’s not there. My sister has a concert at school, so my parents aren’t at home. I’m okay, though. I can get back myself.”

“Absolutely not!”

“Daichi, it’s not up to you to tell me-”

“You are not going back alone,” Daichi insisted, and not caring that Kiyoko and Takeda were so close, he gripped Suga’s arm. “Stop being stubborn. I’ll walk back with you.”

“No.”

“Don’t worry,” Daichi said wearily. “We don’t have to talk.”

Suga shrugged. Using Takeda for support, he got to his feet and limped across to the bench. He smiled briefly at the team, raising his hand. “I’m okay, just forgot lunch.”

They resumed the game, the fervour soon returning as Suga smiled  across at them, endeavouring to convince the team that he was fine. That he’d recovered. That it was merely one skipped meal.

But he didn’t smile at Daichi. And when Ukai turned up, watching the match for a short while, before bringing it to a close so he could start some more general fitness training, Daichi approached him.

“Suga fainted and I think he should go home now.”

“Uh ... sure. Why’s he still here?”

“No one at home, so I’ll walk back with him.”

Ukai eyed him coolly, perusing with narrowed eyes. “You skippin’ practise?”

“Just the last half an hour,” Daichi said, struggling to quell the tension mounting in his gut.

“Sounds important,” Ukai murmured. “Never known you to skip before, Sawamura-kun.”

“Uh ... yeah, it is.” He swallowed. “Sorry, I really need to get him home.”

Nodding, Ukai dismissed him with a wave of his hand. Daichi plodded to the changing room, picked up both his and Suga’s bags and jackets, and approached the bench, where Suga was sitting, now munching on an energy bar.

“Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

“I am fine. You should stay.”

“No. You still look crap. You shouldn’t have come in today.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that would have looked good, wouldn’t it?” Suga mumbled. “Not able to face my boyfriend after a row.”

Daichi tried what he hoped was a hopeful smile. “I’m still that, then.”

“Guess so.” 

They left the gym, walking slowly down the driveway out of school, neither speaking. Peeking sideways, Daichi was at least heartened to see the colour returning to Suga’s lips, and as he sipped more juice, the faint blush of rose returned to his cheeks.

Suga’s house was fifteen minutes walk from the school. It was a journey they’d made together many times, so many times Daichi had lost count, but it had never been this awkward.  He remembered one walk where they’d had a row, over what he couldn’t quite remember, losing a textbook, he thought, but they’d made up easily, laughing over the preposterousness of it all because they were friends – best friends – and nothing was so important that it came between them.

Except a former boyfriend.

_Are you still thinking of him? Is that why you can’t ..._

“I know you don’t want to talk.”

“So don’t ask me anything,” Suga snapped.

“I’m not going to!” Daichi snapped back, then groaned. “Please, Suga, I just want to explain something.” Suga remained silent, his eyes on the path ahead, so Daichi ploughed on. “The reason I wanted to know who it was, had nothing to do with being the ‘first’.” He felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment and a faint twinge of hurt. “It’s probably selfish, but when you told me, all I could think was how it could impact on us. On me, really, because if it’s someone we both know, then it could so easily get back to my parents.”

“It’s no one from here,” Suga muttered. “And I won’t see him again.”

_But you still think of him._

 He took a breath, trying not to let it catch at his throat, to alert Suga that he was in anyway unhappy. He needed to remain calm, because whatever had happened in the past, it was in the past... wasn’t it? But the worst thought in his head, pounded at him.

_If we split up, can we still be friends?_

“See, I made it back without collapsing,” Suga said, giving an approximation of cheeriness. “You can leave me here.”

“No chance. I’m going to make sure your mum knows what’s happened,” Daichi replied, his hand pushing open the garden gate.

“Don’t.” Suga placed his palm on top of Daichi’s.

“She should be told.”

“There’s no need. I’m fine.”

“Yeah, so you say, but I know you Suga, and this isn’t an assumption, it’s not even instinct, but knowledge. You’re upset and when you’re upset, you don’t eat well and you don’t sleep. I mean, did you sleep last night?  I found it hard enough, and you know I crash early. But you...”

“Yeah I got some sleep, not much, but some,” Suga admitted. He looked at Daichi. “I don’t want you telling my mum, so what will it take for you to keep quiet?”

 _Talk to me._ But that plea sounded too much like blackmail, and Daichi didn’t want to force it.

“Let me in. I just want to make sure you eat and take it easy, okay?”

“You’re clucking like a hen,” Suga murmured, but he agreed, sounding relieved, and even smiled (although it was a very small smile).

Daichi wasn’t a particularly good cook. He was, however, good at using the microwave and as Suga’s mum had left a pan of chicken and noodles on the hob, he ladled some into a bowl and heated it through.

“Go and sit down, and I’ll bring it to you.”

“Going to watch me are you?” Suga queried. He pushed himself off from the wall he was slouched against, and padded across to the table.

“Not if you’d rather I left,” he said and sighed. Bringing the bowl to Suga, he hesitated, wondering whether to stay or leave. In the past, Suga would have told him to get his own bowl of food and join him. But it seemed today was not one of those days, for Suga wanted to be alone.

“I’ll ... um ... see you tomorrow,” he said, and hoisted his bag over his shoulder, “unless you’re ill again. Maybe you should take a day off, yeah? I could explain to the sensei, and everyone at practise saw you faint so it’s clear you’re not well and ...” He bit his lip, digging his teeth in so hard, he thought he’d draw blood, nodded a goodbye and headed for the door.

“It was horrible.”

Daichi stayed his hand on the door, but didn’t look back. “What was? Fainting? ”

“No. _He_ was horrible,” Suga choked. “Please don’t leave me.”

He dropped his bag, kicked off his shoes, and crossed the kitchen in a matter of seconds. “I’m here,” he muttered, dropping onto the bench next to him. And as Suga cradled his head between his hands, Daichi wrapped one arm around him.

He didn’t cry. There weren’t any tears, and in a way that was worse because as Suga talked, his voice flat and lifeless, Daichi realised how hard this had been, and how deep he’d been cut.

“I met him on holiday,” he began, muffling his voice in his sleeve. “He was interested, and that was enough, really.” Then his shoulders shook.  “Oh god, Daichi, you have no idea how unhappy I was at that time.”

“You don’t have to tell me all this, not if it’s making things worse.”

“I want to.” Suga sniffed, and tilted towards the table, laying his forehead on his crossed arms. “You’d started seeing Amiko, and ... um ... I kind of knew that was it, and everything I’d thought about with you, was just never going to happen. Then I went on holiday with my parents and met this guy. He was fun, good-looking, good company, and ... um ... he liked me.

“And it didn’t seem to matter that I didn’t exactly like him. I mean, he did make me laugh, and he said nice things. Sweet things. Flattery, I know now, but it was ... _such_ a relief. For the first time in nearly two years _,_ I stopped feeling abnormal-”

He hunched his shoulders, his voice far more muffled, but then after a sniff, Suga turned his head to the left and peered up at Daichi. “I’d liked you for so long, and had been made to feel by everything around me that it was wrong. That _I_ was wrong, broken, you know? And then he appeared and suddenly everything I’d had to suppress, tried not to voice, didn’t matter because there was this handsome, confident, really funny guy telling me I was ‘cute’ and ‘amusing’ and – Oh, fuck!”

“You don’t have to say anymore,” Daichi whispered. He crept closer, his fingers now straying from Suga’s hair to his cheek. “It really doesn’t matter ... not to me.”

But Suga wasn’t listening. “He kissed me one evening, and it was good, sort of. And he was so good at talking, you know? Then ... I kissed him back. Sorry, this isn’t really that important, I just want you to know, to understand, that I didn’t just fall into bed with him.”

Daichi flinched. But he said nothing. This was not the time to be jealous, however much it hurt.

 “He kind of dazzled me, I suppose, but -”

Suga’s breathing was faster, his lips drying as he smacked them together before exhaling loudly. Daichi watched on, half scared he would faint again because his forehead was clammy, but then after closing his eyes and taking one deeper, steadying breath, Suga continued.

“The second from last night there, we were in his room. It was after dinner, and we were going to watch a DVD. Okay, I wasn’t naive enough to assume that was all we’d be doing, but I hadn’t thought that ... Oh, hell I was stupid. So, so stupid. I mean why else would he have invited me to his room?”

With dawning comprehension, Daichi fought to keep his voice level, not wanting to give in to the horror mounting inside of him. Because how could he help, how could he listen to this story and not be afraid? And by forcing Suga to talk, by being here to listen, he was making him go through it all over again.

“Suga,” he muttered.”Are you telling me he ... uh ...” He gagged on the word. “Did he ... ra ... uh ... did he force you? Is that what happened?”

 

 (“You. Are. Gorgeous, Koushi.”

“Uh... yeah, thanks.” Suga gulped. Takehiko’s hand tugged at his shirt, while his mouth dropped kisses on his lips, his cheek, his chin, his neck. He lay back on the bed (there was nowhere else to sit) and bit back the thought that it might not be pleasure he was squirming with. Takehiko’s hands were still as smooth, uncalloused, and practised as they had been by the pool on that second day.

“Pretty, even,” Takehiko whispered.

“D-do you want to put the film on?”

“If that’s what you really want, Koushi,” he said, but made no attempt to move. Instead, he trailed his hand from Suga’s stomach down to his thigh, resting there but pressing down. “ _Is_ that what you want?”

“I d-don’t know.”

“Have you ever done this with anyone?”

He shook his head.

“Beautiful.” Takehiko’s voice was a sigh, and a whisper, and a caress, and a command. “They say you never forget your first, but you never forget _being_ someone’s first, either. It’s really ... Fuck, I’m hard now.” He grabbed Suga’s hand, pressing it hard on his groin.  “Can you feel that?”

Suga shivered.

“You like it, don’t you?”

“Uh.”

“And you are ador-able when you’re flustered. So, pretty, Koushi. It’s like being with a girl.”

“Please-” He swallowed hard. Takehiko was pulling on his shorts, his hand slipping inside his boxers, grasping him and ever-so-slowly working him, while he watched on, murmuring words that started as endearments ‘beautiful’  ‘precious’ ‘amazing’ ‘pretty’ then leeching into ‘tease’.

 Takehiko let go just at the point of ejaculation. “Not yet, Koushi,” he said, his smile faintly cruel as he knelt back on the bed, watching Suga gasp his frustration. “My pillow princess.”

“Huh?”

“My turn first.”)

 

“Um ... no,” Suga looked up, now dazed. “N-no that’s not what happened, Daichi.  Um ... yeah, he was a bastard, but not that horrible.” A small bubble of laughter escaped his lips, and Suga jumped, scared of the sound.  “He didn’t force me to do anything, not really, but he was ... he had this way of making it seem like it was your idea, and then ... ”

“Then, what?” Daichi asked, when the silence had become unbearable.

“He wanted sex,” Suga said baldly. “I said no.”

“And he was fine with that?”

“Not exactly.” He started to shudder, clutching his arms across his chest. “He kind of underestimated me, though. I mean at first, he thought he could persuade me, and he started to talk, nice things again, and his fingers were ... they were ...”

He gasped and rasped, his voice dry. Daichi held him closer. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I need to tell someone,” Suga whispered. “I’ve tried to shut this out, tried to put it down as a stupid holiday mistake. And I succeeded, didn’t I?  I was doing fine, and happy, so happy with you. But I do need to talk and I’m sorry, I think you’re the only one I _can_ tell.”

“Okay, I’m listening.”

He held him close, and listened, really listened.

“He used his fingers,” Suga mumbled.  “I didn’t understand what was happening, but as soon as he did, as soon as it hurt, I yelled ‘no’. He told me it always hurt the first time, but if I relaxed, it would be okay. He said I’d enjoy it. But ... I still said no. And then, when _he_ didn’t listen, I shoved him away and legged it.”

“And?”

“I got to the door. He followed me, but I was dressing by then and ...” Suga lifted his head and stared into Daichi’s eyes. “As I said, he wasn’t  that much of a bastard. He spat at me, said I was a stupid little boy, and I shouldn’t prick tease.”

Easing out a long breath, making it whistle between his teeth, Daichi stared at the wall. His hand was a fist, but he unfurled it, then twisting sideways, so he could face Suga, he stroked him on the cheek. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“The worst thing was,” Suga said, his eyes unflinching, “at the time, all I wanted was to do was call you up and tell you everything.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“My phone had died. Remember, I dropped it in the pool, and I had to get a new one. By the time I got a new one, I realised I couldn’t tell you.”

“Wish you had.”

Suga kissed his palm. “Actually, I’m glad I didn’t. I’m not sure we’d have got together if you’d known.”

“You think I’d have held back because you’d been with someone else?  Really? ” He felt a scowl forming on his brow. Was he that intractable?  Was that really how Suga viewed him?

Shaking his head, Suga smiled a little. He touched Daichi’s hand, pulling it away from his face, and sniffled. “No, I’d have held back. I couldn’t have faced the pity.”

“Hey, I’ve never pitied you,” Daichi chided. “You’re right hook’s too powerful for one thing.”

They touched foreheads, staring only at each other, then Suga smiled his wide, take-your-breath-away smile, and tilted his face up for a kiss.

Their mouths met, Suga parting Daichi’s lips with his tongue, sliding his hands around his neck to pull him closer. And it was as if it were the first time, and yet there was still the comforting familiarity, the rightness of being together. Moving their mouths together, Suga warm and soft, against Daichi’s thinner cool lips. Pouting, smiling, teeth nuzzling, the utter and overwhelming need to keep up the pressure, to not break apart until both needed to breathe.

“Your food’s getting cold,” Daichi said as they finally came up for air.

“Let it.”

“I’m not having you faint on me again,” Daichi said, gently pushing him away.

“Hey, I’ve got you to catch me, haven’t I?”

Shaking his head, Daichi started to laugh and then he faltered because the smile tugging at the corner of Suga’s mouth, was making him melt.  With his thumb, he slowly traced the planes of Suga’s face, stopping only to kiss the mole under his eye.  And he didn’t care if the line was cheesy, or a cliché, because when it came down to it, he meant every word. “Whatever happens, Suga,” he whispered, “you’ve always got me.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't like angst. It makes me cry.


End file.
